


The Other Side

by anemptymargin



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Cute, Everyone Has Issues, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 11:35:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8889250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemptymargin/pseuds/anemptymargin
Summary: A rumor often has hints of truth, and in Whitestone there are worse things to hear about than budding romance.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mnemosyne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mnemosyne/gifts).



Whitestone is restless, Pike can feel it when she walks the halls of the castle or down in the town - the people are afraid, wary. Nobody knows what’s coming next. All she can do is try to provide comfort to the suffering, but when they are all suffering comfort is hard to be found. She herself finds comfort in the routine of tending to wounded day after day, building the temple, watching over their wizards and waiting for Vox Machina to return again.

 

They will return from Marquet, she tells herself, all of them and in one piece like always. They will.

 

Like clockwork, she watches the changing of guard shifts and the cooks bringing around meals to do their part and help support those keeping Whitestone safe. “Please?” She hears as she passes through the heavy doors; “I know he wouldn’t ask for it, but I’d like to take him something.”

 

“I’m sorry, we don’t really do requests-” a cook protests and Pike turns toward the voices to see Jarett’s familiar form looming over a halfling who seems terrified to even be speaking with him.

 

“You have a little extra, I’ll pay-”

 

“It’s just strange-”

 

Pike steps in, taking strides as large as her short little legs and heavy plate will allow, the stone clanging beneath her feet. “Is everything okay?” She turns to the halfling, knowing Jarett probably means well but doesn’t really know how to talk to small folk.

 

“Yes, Lady Pike.” The halfling shrinks back, clutching his satchel of paper wrapped pork buns to his chest protectively. “It’s-It’s-It’s-”

 

Jarett says; “I asked for an extra, I can pay, I can pay double if you’ll just relax…”

 

“Shh.” Pike casts a firm glance up at him, jaw set squarely. When she looks back to the cook, her face softens and she offers him a broad smile. “I think just this once it’d be okay, don’t you? For me?”

 

The cook lowers his head, and then sighs. “For you, Lady Pike. But please, it’s not my decision to make… we’re spread very thin in the kitchen and some of us don’t even have enough ourselves some days-”

 

Pike reaches out to him, accepting a bun with the warmth that seems to persist around her very essence. “Thank you, Sarenrae thanks you.”

 

“Th-thank you too, Miss.” The halfling stammers, and then casts Jarett a sidelong glance. “No more, you! Please, don’t ask for more.”

 

“Of course.” Jarett holds out a gloved hand, a gold coin squarely in the center of his palm. “Please, take this. As a thank you for your service.”

 

Hesitating only a moment, the cook snatches the coin and then hurries off before either of them can press him again. Pike shoots Jarett another firm glare; “What was that about?”

 

Jarett shifts his hips, his crossbow crooked in his elbow gracefully as he accepts the bun and tucks it into his side pouch. “Just making sure everyone gets fed, Lady Pike. Some have been too busy to keep after their health.”

 

She tilts her head to the side, squinting at him as she tries to suss out what he’s saying. “Who are you talking about?”

 

He looks away and lets out a slight chuckle. “It’s not your concern, m’Lady. You’ve bigger things to worry yourself with, I’m certain.”

 

She waits, letting him return to an awkward rest until his eyes glance up to the balcony where Gilmore’s due to begin his turn fortifying the shield. It makes sense, someone should be watching over him, Allura has Kima always at her side but Gilmore had kept to himself since his incident with the dragon. “I see,” she answers, and then nods. “Let me know if you need anything, all right?”

 

“Of course.” His smile is faded, courteous but not particularly pleased. He excuses himself and she takes her time to loiter in the garden, finding a bench to rest her softened flesh where the armor digs the worst. She’s not surprised when Gilmore makes his way to the balcony and begins casting. Looking harder, looking past the twinkle of soft purple arcane energy, she does indeed see Jarett lingering in the shadows, watching over him.

 

It’s good, she thinks, that Gilmore has someone to keep an eye on him. She’d do the job herself if there were enough healers to go around but they were already spread so thin it’d hardly be the most useful station for her.

 

***

 

Pike is resting her eyes when she hears the hollow click on tile of someone entering the temple, not a true nap but a nice moment alone in a soft chair to ward off impending exhaustion as the day winds down. “Can I- oh.” She smiles a tired grin as she shifts upright in her chair, seeing the sweep of Zahra’s robes as she turns full circle to get a sense of the place. “Hey, haven’t see you around much.”

 

Zahra quirks her head toward Pike, the slender line of her lips curving up to a brief coy smile. “I thought it’d be nice to take a break from the library… check in on Whitestone’s favorite gnome.”

 

Pike laughs, but isn’t really sure why. It was odd seeing the tiefling examining her little corner of faith, not offensive in the least, but unexpected. “Oh.” She nods slowly, “It’s, uh, it’s not really much yet.”

 

“I’d disagree,” Zahra responds, her attention taken by an incomplete relief that one of the artisans of Whitestone had begun earlier in the week; “it’s delightfully subtle.” She takes a step back and offers a somewhat warmer smile. “So little is these days.”

 

Nodding, Pike relaxes once more and lets the soft calm of Zahra’s presence comfort her. After several long minutes, she’s nearly dozed off again when she hears Zahra ask; “Have you heard the new gossip? You must have, as many people as you see in your day.”

 

“Me?” She asks, opening her sleepy eyes and letting out a quiet chuckle. “Oh no, no, I don’t really hear much.”

 

Zahra quirks an eyebrow, and then steps closer. “Mmm. It seems Gilmore’s shadow has caused a bit of buzz in the castle courtyard, there was talk of kisses.”

 

She hadn’t considered Jarett much, in honesty he tended to blend into the background and she figured he liked it that way. Now, for the second time in as many days he was on her mind again. “You mean Jarett?”

 

With a gentle nod, Zahra perches herself on the arm of Pike’s chair, almost towering over her. “Indeed, handsome and stoic… and if you believe the rumor mill completely smitten.”

 

Tilting her head up to look her in the eyes, Pike shrugs. “That’s nice for him. I know he seems to really be fretting over Gilmore.”

 

“Indeed.” Zahra smiles even wider; “I mean, if you’re going to aim for something, it may as well be the stars…”

 

Her eyebrows knit together. Pike can’t follow what Zahra’s saying, and it isn’t the first time she’s been left wondering if her exhaustion was getting the better of her. Helpfully, Zahra asks; “You don’t follow, do you?”

 

“Not really, no. But I want to! I really want to.”

 

Zahra chuckles under her breath, her ears suddenly perking as she looks toward the empty doorway. “You’ll figure it out, darling. Rest your mind a bit.”

 

Pike sighs, but nods slowly. “Uh. All right. Yes. Goodnight then, thanks for coming around.” When she looks back up again, Zahra is gone, leaving behind the faint scent of arcane magic and old books.

 

***

 

She doesn’t lose much time thinking over it, gossip has never really been that interesting and it really is just nice to know that people are still trying to live their lives even with the constant threat of death. Maybe especially because of the constant threat.

 

Pike takes her supper in the garden, watching people hurrying back home as the evening chill settles in and enjoying the look of something other than walls and floors. It’s the sudden cry of a familiar voice that calls her out of her almost meditative state as she picks at a cooled bowl of stew.

 

“Lady Pike!” Jarett calls out across the empty courtyard, running toward her when she looks to him. “Lady Pike!”

 

“Yes?” She raises a hand, offering him a tired smile. “What’s up? Is everything alright?”

 

He’s barely out of breath, but leans down to be eye to eye with her before dropping down to one knee with a loud huff. His cheeks are flushed, but he’s smiling broadly as he places his crossbow down beside her on the bench. “I-” he chuckles and lowers his eyes; “I was wondering if you might have a moment to speak in private?”

 

“Yes, of course…” she warms to him, sliding over with a scrape of metal armor on stone. “Sit with me. What’s on your mind?”

 

Jarett’s eyes dart over her shoulder and then he casts a glance behind him before lowering his head and nodding. He doesn’t move to get up, which in a way Pike understands… he’s trying to be respectful, and even if it makes her uncomfortable it’s something he feels like he needs to do. “If it’s all the same-”

 

“It’s not.” Pike sighs softly, reaching out to press her gauntlet against the cool stone beside her. “But it’s not important.”

 

“Aye.” Jarett nods again, slow and never lifting his eyes to meet hers. “I’m not much of a holy man-”

 

She cuts him off again, it’s a line she’s heard a thousand times in the last month. More people have turned their eyes to the gods in times of trouble than times of peace could ever hope for. “In terrible times, we turn toward comfort wherever it can be found.”

 

“That’s actually what weighs on me this evening.” His words come out with a tentative pause, clearly searching within himself for the right words. “I feel strange looking for comfort when so many are suffering, when we could all be dead by morning.”

 

She reaches out to him then, setting aside her mostly empty bowl as she moves closer, and then clasping both gauntleted hands on his shoulders and squeezing the hard muscle until he winces but doesn’t back down. “Don’t you dare.” She answers curtly; “I swear! Why? Why would you feel guilty for reaching out?”

 

He shifts awkwardly on his knee, falling back when she lets him go. “Lady Pike?”

 

“No. No. I’m sorry, I just-” she sighs loudly. “There’s no shame in taking comfort, as long as that comfort is welcome.”

 

He looks up at her then and seems to be scanning her face for some answer to a question he hasn’t asked. After a long moment, he says; “Even if it’s with someone I ought not be seeking comfort with?”

 

Once more, she finds her head tilting toward the side as she too looks for unspoken words, finding none. “How so?”

 

Jarett lowers his eyes. “Haven’t you ever had affection for someone you shouldn’t have?”

 

She has, and the thought pulls at her for a moment before she admits; “It’s complicated, but I have.”

 

He shifts slightly closer, and then lets out another sigh. “I-I’ve never been like this before. I should be worried about keeping Whitestone safe, but all I can think about is being with him. His laugh… his smile… the way he makes everything seem so effortless until those brief moments when only I get to see his weakness.”

 

It takes a moment to hit her. A ‘he’, right, effortless, and then weak. “Oh my.” She whispers; “Gilmore?”

 

He chokes audibly, and looks up with a drawn expression. “Is it that obvious?”

 

“Oh, no… I mean… someone may have said you’ve been close to him lately. And, ehm-”

 

“It’s okay. I mean, I haven’t been truly discreet, and it’s not like there’s anyone left in Whitestone who hasn’t seen the way I dote on him. Sure, Vax’ildan asked me to watch him, but this is-”

 

“Adorable.” Pike sighs tenderly, smiling with a broad, reflexive truth. “Does he know? I mean, he probably knows, but does he  _ know _ ?”

 

With an awkward laugh, his head drops again and Jarett mutters; “He kissed me.”

 

“Oh.” Pike’s eyes widen, and then; “Oh!”

 

“Yeah.” He shakes his head, shoulders slumping forward. “I just can’t allow it. I mean, what sort of guard would I be falling for my charge? It’s unacceptable.”

 

“Don’t you dare,” Pike draws a breath between clenched teeth before reaching to him and forcibly drawing him up to look her in the eyes; “that’s a terrible excuse to not follow something you’re obviously enjoying. Right? I mean… look at you! Out here all wound up and worried about the situation and probably worried about him and everything else…”

 

“It’s not the time to fall in love, Lady Pike.” She can see the shine in his eyes, but he doesn’t let tears come.

 

Loudly, she sighs and for a moment considered slapping him across his stupidly sincere face. He really believes that, she understands, but that little bright part of him is rebelling and she can see it so clearly it burns. “Now is  _ exactly _ the time to fall in love.” She wipes a hand across his cheek, tender and careful. “We need love. Love will get us through these troubled days.”

 

“Until you see your love cut down.” Jarett answers and for the first time in the years she’s known him, she hears his voice crack. “I’ve seen too many I could have loved fall in battle against foes that couldn’t hold a candle to the threat we face in the days ahead.”

 

For a moment, she says nothing at all. She searches his eyes and sees only his open soul. He means it, ever word of it, and she can feel that pain in shimmering waves radiating off of him. Then, after a deep breath, she says; “It would hurt just as much now as it will in a week or a month or a year. Wouldn’t it?” It’s not really a question, she knows, seeing the Glorious Gilmore cut down would break any one of them.

 

Shifting onto his feet with affected slowness, Jarett’s eyes glance up to the balcony where soon the barrier will be refreshed. He answers; “I fear as much.”

 

“Perhaps that fear would be better replaced with comfort? Would it really be so bad to allow yourself the comfort you deserve?”

 

He sighs, picks up his heavy crossbow and tucks it in the hard angle of his elbow, and then looks back to the small cleric. “It’s easy to say that from the other side. I don’t really think I deserve anything.”

  
A low, rumbling chuckle draws both of their attention and it’s the sweep of opulent purple and gold robes that give an identity half a breath before Gilmore’s voice washes over them. “I think I’d rather be the judge of that. I’m far more generous in my assessment of your merits.”


End file.
